


A Father's Touch

by FreakyVintageWallpapers



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Mother-Son Relationship, NOT MAXVID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreakyVintageWallpapers/pseuds/FreakyVintageWallpapers
Summary: Max felt his blood boil, a fire igniting low in his belly and his chest was burning. He wanted so badly to punch him, to kick, to scratch his fucking eyes out.





	A Father's Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to A Mother's Love

They sat a good distance away from each other, both staring with unblinking eyes.  
  
David busied himself in the kitchen, trying his best at making a meal that would, in David’s own words, bring the two together through their culture. Max had been subjected to tasting his failed attempts at the dish.

Max couldn’t even pronounce the name of the dish and had never tasted it, but anyone could tell David that he was using way to much salt.

As Max stared at the man in front him more so at his thick salt and pepper hair. Max felt no connect at all, not by culture or blood.  
  
There was no string that wrapped them together, that labeled who they were to each other.

They were no longer father and son, that much Max could tell, but as he sat there watching the older Man watch him. He couldn’t recall the last time he had  ever felt like that man was his father.  
  
The staring game continued, both observing one another with careful sorrow filled eyes.  
  
Eventually a handkerchief was produced from suit pocket and coughed into, breaking eye contact.  
  
Max was shaking, he didn’t fear this man but he feared the circumstances that brought him here. Whatever they may be.  
  
The man looked back up, seeming to be broken from his own haze.   
  
“May I see your room?” He asked, he drummed his fingers nervously on his knee, and Max could tell he was just trying to fill the silence.  
  
“Uh huh.” Max slid off the rocking chair and gently took the man’s large hand into his own. It made his heart race at the contact, he couldn’t remember ever holding his father’s hand, and by the older mans stiffened posture neither did he. It seemed like the right thing to do. He always grabbed David’s hand.

  
His father’s hand was rough and calloused, and it devoured Max’s hand in a tight grip.  
  
Much different from what Max was used to.  
  
David’s hands were thin and long and fit perfectly when they intertwined fingers as they walked to the store together. Or if David was too nervous or happy and had to hold onto something.  
  
The room was small but Max seemed to make do with it, posters and pictures covered every wall along with various lights and decorations.   
  
While his father stood awkwardly in the door, Max trotted over to his desk and disappeared under it, and after a bit of fumbling, the room was filled with yellow and purple lights that were strung around the ceiling.   
  
Max popped out from under the desk a small, faint smile playing on his lips as his father looked to the ceiling, mouth slightly open.  
  
“These are very nice, Maxwell.” He commented absentmindedly before turning back to his son.  
  
“Thanks Baba.” Max seemed surprised at the genuine compliment. His father seemed surprised at actually being called by such a title. But that’s what Max had always called him, with or without its true meaning.  
  
Max preferred just calling his mother by mom. But his father had always raised and corrected him to say Baba.He had told Max is was what all children called their father’s in his family. Max had tried to tell him that he didn’t know the first thing about his family other than weird events he was drug to every other year just to see them. His father didn’t understand.  
  
His father stepped fully in the room, and sat with caution on the perfectly made bed and soon Max was by his side. His father noted that Max had probably never made a bed in his life, and he knew immediately who was responsible for tidying up his son’s room.   
  
This was the first time since the visit started that they were truly alone together. Max was going to take advantage of it when the time was right, but he couldn’t find his voice to ask the questions he so desperately wanted answers too. He sat with their arms touching, just barely, and he sought out the courage to talk.  
  
The older man beat him to the punch.  
  
“How are you doing in school?”   
  
Max smirked to himself, he had prepared for this question, so he hopped from his bed and raced to the wall removing several framed pictures with the help of his chair.  
  
They were quickly deposited into his father’s lap, and Max climbed back next to him.  
  
“That ones for honor roll, and that for perfect attendance for the first semester. That’s my report card from this year.”   
  
Max described every picture in detail as his father filtered through them.   
  
“You’re very good at school,” He commented, and he was smiling, but it was not a happy one. He had been forced to sit through enough school conferences with upset teachers and parents too know that Max was troubled in school. but suddenly here, here with this overly happy and loving man, more so a kid in his opinion, brought out the true scholar in Max.  
  
“Yeah, it’s pretty easy. David insisted we get the frames for the papers though.” When Max turned to look over at the pictures, his cheek would press against his father’s arm and his body couldn’t handle the overwhelming, unfamiliar contact. But Max couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head to lean against his father.   
  
There were so many nights he yearned for the loving contact of a father, for someone to ruffle his hair, to hold his hand, to hug him when he needed it most.  
  
David had come to do those things for him, not a day went by where David didn’t show him affection in some way. David held him when he cried or when he wordlessly crawled into his lap. David never uttered a concern or protest when Max did this. David would relax and let Max get comfortable and he would stroke the wild curls.  
  
David ruffled his hair every time he walked by Max, whether Max be doing homework or watching TV.  It was such a small, meaningless form of contact that most would give a second thought too, but the camp man and grumpy child were not most.  
  
But David wasn’t his father, he was his David, but this man. The man sitting next to him was suddenly giving him something he was starved for since before he could open his eyes.  
  
“I didn’t know you left until two weeks ago.” His father said suddenly. It echoed through the small room, and Max had actually jumped at the sudden break in tension.  
  
It took a moment for the boy to process the older man’s words and when he did his heart sunk into his stomach.   
  
“I didn’t even know you’d been gone for months, I had no idea. My ten year old son was gone, he had left, and I didn’t notice.”   
  
Max was speechless and he pulled away from the man to stare at him. Max wasn’t expecting eye contact and was glad when it wasn’t returned.  
  
“Your mother told me and… I don’t know, Max. Why’d it take me so long?”  
  
Max felt his blood boil, a fire igniting low in his belly and his chest was burning. He wanted so badly to punch him, to kick, to scratch his fucking eyes out.  
  
“I asked myself that for a week. ‘How come I didn’t notice my flesh and blood missing?’ It’s because I never cared. I never cared for you."There was no malice in his voice, just pain.

Max’s eyes burned with stinging tears that threatened to spill over. He tried his best to hold them back, but his vision was so blurry and he couldn’t blink.  
  
"I was wrong for that, for never holding you, kissing you, not bringing you along on business, for not doing anything I should have done. I neglected you.”  
  
Max’s chest was rising and falling at a rapid speed, this was all too much.  
  
“I, um.” Max started but his words failed him, he gaped like a fish.  
  
“I didn’t even know you were gone and it’s been six months Max. Six!” He was close to shouting now.  
  
“I ran to America to run my father’s company to avoid him, to have a better future for my children. And look what I’ve done. I’ve become him. I’ve become an angry old man who never cared for his son.” Every word was spat with such venom for himself, for the situation, for the everything.  
  
“You deserve this. To be here with Him. Look at this.” He gestured to all around the room.  
  
“I couldn’t give you this. I couldn’t string up lights, I couldn’t frame papers, or make your bed for you.” He shook his head.  
  
“I couldn’t do these things for you, I could never be a father, I’ve already fallen too far. I’ve lost the right to that title and you suffered because of it didn’t you?” He looked to Max with wet eyes.  
  
“I’ve hurt the only person who could ever be proud of me, didn’t I Max?”  
  
There was a silent nod.  
  
“I’m so sorry, my son. It’s all I can say. I want to do better for you. And I will. This time I will. I’ll show you, my son.” He promised.  
  
The water works began on both sides. Max blinked and large tears trailed down his cheeks. The crying did nothing to ease his pain. The pain his father caused. Max twisted the bed sheets in his hands to steel himself.   
  
“You came to say sorry, and, and… And you weren’t there… You were never there for me or her! I was alone, Baba!”  
  
"You were never home. You didn’t push to come see me. I was hurting and no one gave a single fuck.” Max sniffles.  
  
"I didn’t have anybody. I didn’t even have my own parents by my side! Then you shoved me in a camp you didn’t think twice about!” Max yelled.  
  
“The shadiest, dirtiest camp and it was the only fun I ever had!” Max was openly sobbing now.  
  
“Why did you hate me? You asshole!” Max screamed, he could hear dishes clatter as David listened to the commotion.  
  
“I never hated you. I hated what others thought of me because of you.”  
  
Max wiped his eyes with his sleeve angrily. He could hear David’s boots stomping towards his room.  
  
“Who cares what the fuck they think!”  
  
“I’m a fool, Maxwell. Your father is a damn fool. I should have ran to you than from you. I was so scared of my image that it ruined your perception of me.”   
  
“You’re wrong.” Max practically whispered. He looked over at the turning door knob and with another sob he muttered, “It ruined my entire life.”   
  
David practically burst the door down. Once he saw that there was no immediate danger he relaxed. David’s face turned solemn once he saw Max crying.   
  
“Max, Scout, what’s wrong?” David crouched in front of him and placed his hands on either side of Max’s face. His thumbs gently rubbed at his temples. David gently shushed him. His father watched on with wide, knowing eyes.   
  
He was witnessing a father’s touch.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this please leave a kudos and comment! If you want more camp camp or want to request your own fic idea check out my tumblr @campcampbellistheplaceformeandyou


End file.
